


(the bad flirting) among us

by RenderedReversed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Among Us AU, Harry's (totally not sexual) voice kink, M/M, VA Harry Potter, VA Tom Riddle, Voice Acting, background RW/HG, lowkey weeb, self-indulgent mess, utter tripe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: Lord Voldemort@lv_officialAmong Us but with voice actors[Video]3.1kRetweets10.6kLikeshitwstanwait this is illegal………………...phfan216all my lobbies are full of shouting but here even the shouting is a literal eargasmjazzcataddictok but is no one going to mention how fucking hard LV is flirting with roonil???? No?? Just me??? Ok.jellybeansWHO IS ROONIL AND WHY IS MY HUSBAND IN LOVE WITH HIM
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 87
Kudos: 1375
Collections: Harry Potter, Shady Harry Potter Faves (No major crossovers)





	(the bad flirting) among us

“Listen,” Harry says, “All I’m saying is that Green’s _kinda really_ sus.”

“Now now, darling,” the smooth, amused voice belonging to Green says over comms, “I’ve been on your ass the entire round. I’m flattered you think I could’ve slipped away for a double kill, but—”

“You were literally chasing me around the meeting table trying to _rip my head off_ and you know it!”

The voting countdown ticks to red. Hermione sighs. “I don’t think we have enough to go on. Just stick together, do your tasks, and camp sabotages.”

“Yeah okay fine, but could I _please_ switch partners? Green is going to murder me in the back of Electrical and the way this is going, he could self-report and no one would think it was fucking him.”

“Mate, if you die, we’ll vote him off next, promise,” Ron says. It sounds like he’s laughing. He’s _totally_ laughing.

The screen goes black and Harry groans. “If you don’t keep your promise then I will _remember_ this the next time I’m impostor and kill you first so you don’t get your _stupid_ YouTube video!”

“Comms,” Hermione says quickly as they load back in.

Harry slams the mute button. “ _Ugh_!” he shrieks.

He will not, repeat, _not_ think about how illegal it was to hear Tom Riddle’s elegant, posh voice say ‘ass.’

Deep breaths, Potter. He swallows. Never ever in his entire voice acting career did he think he would get the chance to talk to _the_ Lord Voldemort, a famous VA in the online community known for his, for lack of a better phrase, hot-evil-villain voice. Harry might’ve had his own modest fanbase by now, but nothing as large (or rabid) as LV’s.

And then Among Us had taken off and everyone who was anyone wanted to play it. And stream it. 

And now he was comfortable enough—well, as long as he didn’t think about it—to actually know his long-time idol’s real name, call him a lying liar who lies to his _face_ (virtually) and hear him say the word ‘ass’ in that perfect, silky drawl of his. All in a day’s work.

 _Ugh_ indeed. 

“Just do your tasks, Harry,” he says, both for himself and for his viewers’ entertainment. “Just do your tasks, and when Green inevitably kills you, just die in a place where someone can find your body.”

He splits off from the group and heads to Reactor to finally finish Simon Says. True to his word, Green does, in fact, follow him there, nearly staying in his back pocket. It’s _so_ sus. He hasn’t seen Green do a single task the entire game. 

“I’m actually going to do it this time,” he says, clicking along the pattern. “I never actually _did_ because I always thought he was going to kill me in cold blood and then vent out, but you know what, fuck it. Ron better keep his promise.”

The task finishes. Harry is not, in fact, dead.

“Huh, go figure. Maybe he doesn’t wanna kill me in Reactor so he can sabotage?”

Harry narrows his eyes. Green has just been standing there, watching from the doorway— _menacingly_. 

“Alright,” he says, “We’ve been doing my tasks, but now how about we go do _your_ tasks?”

On screen, Harry—Red—wiggles back and forth in the universal sign for _I’ll follow you_.

It also means _what now, confusion,_ _waiting, done with tasks, follow me_ —

Okay, so maybe not the clearest signal in the world. Green, mirroring Harry, also starts to wiggle back and forth in the middle of Reactor. It feels like a test. Like he’s waiting for something.

Like he’s inching closer until he’s _just_ in kill range to—

Pink appears in the doorway. Hermione. Oh thank god, someone to report his body.

The lights go out. Harry immediately stacks on top of Tom, not giving him an opportunity to slip away as the majority of his vision turns to black. 

“It’s Tom,” Harry’s saying. “It’s _so_ Tom. Mione better not go to lights, I will die here as proof and she needs to be around to report it. My life for the greater good, I swear to _god_ —” 

...And a report, except it’s not for him.

“Body,” a distinctly Scottish voice comes on comms, “at lights.” Barty adds, ”Didn’t see anyone else.”

“Green?”

“In Reactor,” Tom says smoothly.

“We were stacked,” Harry backs up begrudgingly. “Pink showed up right before lights went out, too.”

“I walked in on them both flirting. Don’t think it’s either of them,” says Hermione.

 _Traitor_. Harry nearly collides with his mic. “We were _not_ —”

“Wait,” Ron says, “Two are dead. Whose body did you report?”

The lobby—what remained of them, anyway—descends into chaos. With two impostors on the loose and five players left, they have to vote someone off here, or else lose the very next round.

Harry bites his lip. Green, he thinks, still kind of sus, but there’s no way? This time they really _were_ together the entire time. A double kill would’ve been impossible. Was Tom really innocent?

“It’s either Pink, Black, or Blue,” says Tom, cutting through the chaos.

“I was trying to get lights and no one else was there,” Barty says quickly. “If you and Red are clearing each other, I think it’s Pink and Black.”

“That’s pretty sus,” Ron says. “Who’s to say you didn’t self-report?”

“ _Why_ would I self-report when no one else was there? I could’ve just vented out and waited until one of you found her—” 

“Guys,” says Harry, “I say, in Luna’s memory, we all just vote Green off now and—”

“Wait, weren’t you vouching for him?”

“Well, yes,” Harry admits, “But only this round! Barty didn’t see two bodies and there was enough time that it _wasn’t_ a double kill, so I say we just vote off the for-sure impostor and—”

“Oh, that hurts, darling,” Tom murmurs into the mic, low and all-together far too pleasing. “I’ve been protecting you the entire game and you want to send me out the airlock?”

Harry ignores the shiver that runs down his spine out of sheer _spite_ and willpower. “You have not done a _single task_ the entire game! I bet the only reason you kept me alive was to make me third impostor for you or something, but _guess what, LV,_ I’m fucking on to you. I know you vent-killed Draco at shields and I have no idea why we didn’t vote you off then but I _swear_ one of the impostors is Green, just-just send him out now and we can sus out the second impostor in an emergency meeting or something. ”

There was a pause. Then, Hermione says, rather delicately, “I honestly think Blue just self-reported.”

“ _Oh my gooood_ Ron please tell me you aren’t going to throw this for your girlfriend.”

“We can vote LV off second,” Ron compromises. “C’mon, Harry, the logic checks out. It’s Blue.”

“Woah woah woah,” Barty says, “And what’s your alibi? Why are you and Pink clear?”

Despite Barty’s arguing, the meeting ends with 3 votes on Blue and 1 vote (Harry’s) on Green. Four left. Harry honestly doesn’t know who the second impostor is, but Barty hadn’t been his first guess, either. He has a terrible feeling about this.

Before an emergency meeting can be called, a sabotage goes off. Reactor. The bad feeling gets worse.

“I’m so going to die,” Harry says, hand on the bottom scan, “I’m sooo going to—”

Just as he’s waiting for someone to get the top, Tom, who he hadn’t seen follow him down, promptly stabs his skull clean through.

Harry slams his desk. “I KNEW IT WAS HIM! RON BETTER VOTE HIS ASS OFF BECAUSE—wait, what...”

The game screen fades out and the DEFEAT screen fades in, revealing the second impostor: Pink.

 _Hermione_.

With comms now unmuted, Tom’s laughter floods the voice chat. 

“That was an excellent light kill, Hermione.”

Hermione practically preens. “Why thank you, Luna.”

“I can’t believe you all didn’t listen to Harry and let my death be in vain,” Draco complains.

Meanwhile, all Ron can say is, “What.”

Tom is still laughing his ass off. “So sorry, darling,” he says, breathy and _wow, Harry’s never heard him like that before,_ he’s so glad this is being recorded because he just might have to snip this particular clip and listen to it again. Repeatedly. For science. 

“Why didn’t you kill him in Reactor?” Hermione exclaims. “We could’ve finished that a whole round sooner but you were too busy messing around and I had to throw sus on Barty—sorry Barty, by the way, nice to meet you—” 

“Good to meet you, too,” Barty says wryly.

“I thought it would be funny,” says Tom. He’d regained some of his composure, though the good humor was still in his voice, along with an overwhelming smugness. 

The allure of lines he’d never heard LV say before, in that all-too-familiar intonation, right beside his ears, makes Harry want to close his eyes and melt into his chair. How can a _voice_ be so stupidly attractive?

And _annoying_. But mostly attractive.

Harry buries his face in his arms, flushed up to his ears and exhausted by the sheer amount of emotional whiplash he was experiencing. 

“I think I hate you a little bit,” he says, over the chaotic din of the post-game lobby.

A low chuckle. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

It’s really enough to make a man swoon.

Which, you know, Harry doesn’t. 

Maybe. 

Only a little.

* * *

**Lord Voldemort** @lv_official

Among Us but with voice actors

_[Video]_

**3.1k** Retweets **10.6k** Likes 

**hitwstan** wait this is illegal………………...

 **phfan216** all my lobbies are full of shouting but here even the shouting is a literal eargasm

 **jazzcataddict** ok but is no one going to mention how fucking hard LV is flirting with roonil???? No?? Just me??? Ok.

 **jellybeans** WHO IS ROONIL AND WHY IS MY HUSBAND IN LOVE WITH HIM

 **wellwellwell** who’s daisymae? Her voice is so cute!

 **etaliens** **@wellwellwell** that’s @LunaVA! She did the FL in the new Princess Debut 2 game and streams Animal Crossing a lot

* * *

**Undesirable No. 1 (DM ME UR UNOs)** @undesirableVA

I KNEW IT WAS GREEN BUT NO ONE BELIEVED ME….

[Video]

 **1.2k** Retweets **4.6k** Likes

 **roonilwazlibVA** mate i said i was sorryyyy

 **undesirableVA @roonilwazlibVA** NOT GOOD ENOUGH, RON.

 **ph-on-main** okay was anybody going to tell me all my favorite VAs know each other or was I just supposed to find out when they all played Among Us together...

 **starry7** **@undesirableVA** wait why is red roonil? I thought that was you?

 **uno-no-1-stan @starry7** they swapped names, they do that sometimes

* * *

**Autocorrect is my worst enemy** @roonilwazlibVA

tfw ur dms get blasted bc ur best mate snogged a popular VA in reactor room using ur identity and everyone was watching 😔😔

 **76** Retweets **324** Likes

 **undesirableVA** i did NO such thing

 **roonilwazlibVA @undesirableVA** sus

 **lv_official** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

They don’t really talk.

But also, it’s not like there’s time _to_ talk. Harry gets busy. Between recording, getting feedback, and then rerecording his lines for some anime dubs he’s been working on, plus schoolwork, plus exams, plus trying to get at least five hours of sleep a day, it’s a record if he can even shoot Ron or Hermione a message, never mind an idol he’s only ever really talked to in a game that specifically requires talking to each other.

 _Also_ , he guesses Voldemort’s busy, too. He’s posted a few trailing hints on his twitter about the latest project he’s taken on, and a lot of people (not that Harry is paying attention, of course, for any reason other than strictly professional) guess it’s for a JRPG that was recently announced to be getting an English release.

Voldemort is the dream, coming from humble, fandubbing roots to being sought after for AAA titles. He’s probably even busier than Harry. No matter how well they’d gotten on in Among Us, it’s true that they barely know each other. He’d be more surprised if Voldemort _did_ message him.

And then, he does.

_Among us with friends?_

The message appears in his DMs one day and Harry has to double check to make sure he’s not dreaming.

 _Sure_ , he types back, because while there’s a million-and-one things he should rather be doing, they suddenly don’t seem as important anymore.

The only one he’s actually talked to in this lobby is Barty—and of course Tom himself—but he recognizes some of their names. There’s Trixiebell, a popular dancer and choreographer; Fenris, a Twitch streamer known for his gruff voice and his horror game play; ViktorK, the—wait, the football player? 

Harry suddenly finds himself feeling rather small. LV is one thing, but why is this lobby so stacked...

“Who’s UNO?” someone asks. Harry winces.

“Ah, he’s one of mine,” Tom interjects, smooth voice partially easing some of Harry’s fears just by existing. Ah, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing it. Voldemort could literally be reading the dictionary and he would still have 110% of his attention.

“Hello,” Harry says politely.

Greetings go around. “All your friends sound so _pretty_ , Tom,” someone nicknamed as ‘Regi’ complains. “Are you also a voice actor, Uno?”

It feels a little embarrassing to tell them his name now, so Harry just rolls with it. “I do a little work here and there,” he says, honest. “Some small things, nothing much.”

“He did the voice of Tanjiro from your favorite Demon Slayer dub,” says Tom.

“The hell, that’s not small!” Regi curses. “Uno, big fan. Can I just say, your dub got me through many a night where my ass was too drunk to read subtitles. Hey, do you guys have any plans on doing the movie?”

He feels like he’s gone through some mystical portal to a world where Voldemort actually knows his work. Harry feels like he’s got two left feet and he’s not even walking. And then, ‘fan’...

It isn’t like he doesn’t know he has any. He has a twitter. He has followers. People occasionally comment on his posts. Still, it’s different _hearing it_ instead of just seeing the words on the screen. Harry flushes, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Um,” he manages, and geez, isn’t that eloquent of you, Potter, “Thanks. I can’t make any promises, but a lot of VAs in our group are big fans of the anime, and since there’s still interest... I’d say chances are good.”

He hears a hushed ‘yesss’ on the other end and wants to stick his head in a bucket of sand.

“Don’t bully,” Tom says, sounding amused. It’s almost like he knows Harry doesn’t deal well with attention. But that’s impossible, right? 

“Everyone ready?”

He nearly misses the start of the game, too distracted by the sound of Tom’s voice engaged in casual conversation with his friends.

* * *

“It’s almost like meeting the family, when you think about it,” Ron points out one day over voice call, “Except, you know, if the dinner was actually a murder mystery skit and you’re all trying to sus out the killers.”

“Oh my god, Ron.”

Tom’s invited him to several more games since then. Some have gotten uploaded—through either someone livestreaming or recording—and some have not. It’s not always the same lobby, either. And fortunately for Harry’s ears but rather unfortunately for Harry’s heart, that means plenty of time to get used to Tom introducing him as, and he quotes, “one of mine.”

How absolutely villainous. _Possessive_. It makes his toes curl in his socks just thinking about it.

Anyway, it all very much doesn’t mean anything because Tom’s joined _their_ lobby for a second run once, too. So there. Harry doesn’t know what exactly that proves but, it’s out there.

“Mate,” Ron says, and it both sounds disbelieving and full of pity. “I’m not trying to say anything, but you know enough about him to psychoanalyze his playstyle. You know his _tells_. That’s like...that’s like...”

“I thought you weren’t trying to say anything,” Harry says petulantly.

Ron raises his hands in defeat. “I’m not saying anything about your idol worship-slash-crush on Voldemort.”

“Ron!”

“I _am_ saying something about _his_ crush on _you_.”

“You are being the worst right now.”

There’s a shrewdness in Ron’s eyes that certainly was never there when he and Lavender were having problems, or when he was still angsting over whether Hermione actually liked him back. Maybe it’s true what they say—easier to see the objective truth from an outsider’s perspective.

 _Not_ that Harry thinks Ron is right—he’s just. Also maybe not wrong. Two different things, see?

Ron shrugs. “You don’t see him inviting us to play, do you? Nah, he’s got his priorities straight. Frankly, I can respect it. You’re kind of a hard fish to catch, mate.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to give him the weird look. “Wasn’t expecting this from you.”

“I call it like I see it. S’like chess, see? He’s...maneuvering. Setting up his pieces. Planning his board. Preparing to reel you in before you’ve even taken the bait.”

They both stare long and hard at each other before bursting out laughing. 

“Okay,” says Harry, “Can we talk normally? Like, without the metaphors?”

“No metaphors,” Ron agrees.

Harry shuffles his feet. He thinks about it—thinks about Tom’s voice first because _obviously_ , but also finds, somewhat to his surprise, that there’s also a building anticipation to hear that voice talk expressly to _him_.

And that, well, that’s as good a place to start as any.

“I’d consider it,” Harry says finally.

“Wow, really? His voice really does do it for you, doesn’t it?”

“Could you not snatch my wig for five seconds? But also, yes,” says Harry, “it does.”

“So...you should...probably get to know him?”

“Oh, is that how these things go? I’d have thought I was supposed to pick a fight before finding us a conveniently placed broom closet.”

“That was one time! But if you _do_ want to try it, suppose you should probably find out what he looks like, first?”

Ah. That was...one thing he’d kind of forgotten. Like him, Voldemort also didn’t stream with a facecam, and most of his uploaded videos didn’t involve any sort of camera, either. After all, in their line of work, all that really mattered was the voice. A face was just extra.

“I’ll work up to it,” Harry decides.

Ron shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

That night, before he can second guess himself into a hole, Harry sends a single text.

_Hi_

...And nearly drops his phone. He didn’t expect Voldemort to reply back _that_ fast.

_Hello_

_What’s up, darling?_

“You will _not_ fucking psychoanalyze that, Potter,” Harry says to himself. He blots out the pet name with his thumb for good measure. “ _No_. Nope. Out of sight, out of mind.”

But it’s also true that seeing that has completely thrown him off his groove. Not that he’d come in with a plan anyway. Harry figures he’d just wing it, see where the winds take him.

He bites his lip. Well, he’s indoors, and there’s no wind.

Ah, screw it. Harry types the first thing that comes to mind.

 _I saw your tweet from earlier_ , he says. _You have a pet snake?_

_Yes_

_Would you like to see?_

_!!! yes!!_

_[image]_

_[image]_

_the love of my life, Nagini_

_She’s a chocolate ball python and the sweetest_

Each picture is taken with care, with sharp focus and deliberate lighting to highlight her patterns. Nagini is a gorgeous snake with dark scales and light rings forming a striking contrast. He tells Tom exactly that, and if his eyes linger on the hand with long, elegant fingers holding her up, well.

It’s Harry’s secret.

* * *

“Four kills in one round,” Barty moans, “You two are bloodthirsty monsters.”

“Naturally,” Tom says, smug. “Darling and I are a perfect pair.”

Harry’s hands are still shaking. There’d been blood spilt in practically every room that last game; a sneaky shot in cams, a double in medbay, one in Navigation, a vent kill in Admin…

Every time he gets impostor with Tom, he always goes in not wanting to drag him down. How, then, is he the one that ends up with more kills? 

“I think I’m all Among Us’d out,” Harry declares. “Thanks for the games.”

Both sentiments get echoed back. It’s approximately—Harry checks the clock—4AM for half of the lobby. Probably best that they end it off there. 

After everyone’s left, Tom still lingers.

Harry yawns.

“Perhaps we should’ve called it five one-more-games ago,” Tom murmurs, voice like silk through Harry’s headphones. 

It makes Harry feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like marshmallow fluff between two graham crackers—light and sweet around a melting chocolate core.

“Mmm,” he says, and stretches. There’s an audible crack. He can barely keep his eyes open. “If I dream about murdering someone at left reactor, I blame you.”

Tom’s laugh is a fond, brief thing. For a moment, Harry wants to snatch it up and stuff it in his cheeks like a squirrel. He thinks it's a sound worth treasuring—not just because of how gorgeous it is, though it certainly is that, but because of what he can hear behind it.

“Darling,” Tom says, and Harry’s eyes flutter. “You’re falling asleep. Go to bed.”

“Maybe if you read me a bedtime story,” he says back, mostly joking.

What he doesn’t expect Tom to say is, “Alright.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Free of charge, if you’re good,” murmurs Tom. It’s his villain voice again. Harry has never raced so fast to bed before.

“No takebacks,” he says quickly, and then flushes at how childish that’d sounded. “Um, that is…I mean, only if you want to.”

“It’d be a pleasure.” _Pleasure_. _Plea-sure_. 

The thing about Tom’s voice is how _clear_ it is. How the syllables cradle in his mouth, along his tongue, the rhythm, the movement, the stretch: it’s as if he tastes every word and sound with his ears and crafts them for maximum listening pleasure. Tom talks like he knows people enjoy the sound of his voice, and it’s _true_.

But when he talks _to Harry_ , there’s no people, plural. There’s no audience of thousands it generalizes, commercializes for. There’s just one, singular.

...Like the sound of a secret, privately shared.

“What shall I read you?”

“The Bee Movie script,” Harry says, deadpan. He laughs at Tom’s tiny disgusted noise. “No, what about _The Adventures of Pericles Hornsby_?”

“...I did record an audiobook for that, you know.”

“An audiobook is an audiobook. I want to hear how you’d read it normally.”

For a moment, there’s a pause. Harry wonders if he’ll be refused.

But then, after a beat in time, Tom’s voice picks up again:

_"The day of the greatest adventure of Perry Hornsby's life, it rained from morning 'til noon…”_

It’s not the first time Harry’s fallen asleep to Voldemort, but it _is_ the first time he falls asleep to Tom.

* * *

Harry wakes up to the weekend and a week’s worth of obligations.

Still, he can’t bring himself to give one lick about them. Stretching out in bed, he curls up around a pillow and idly checks his phone for messages, replying to some and leaving others.

At the top of his list, of course, is a DM he’d gotten last night—or rather, early this morning.

From Tom.

_I think you’ve fallen asleep_

_Good night, darling_

The dopey smile that appears on his face is totally unintentional.

 _Thanks for the bedtime story,_ he types back. _I’d say sorry for falling asleep on you, but I kind of think that was the plan._

Then his phone starts ringing. Harry all but drops it on his face.

“H-hello?”

He flushes. His voice is still sleep-hoarse and his throat is slightly parched. That is definitely not what he wants Tom to hear—

“Good morning,” Tom says, a fond inflection to it that makes Harry hug his pillow tighter with the urge to bury his face in it. “Did you sleep well?”

“...I did,” Harry mumbles. “Was there, um, a reason you called?”

Other than spoiling the crap out of him. Falling asleep to Tom’s voice, and then getting to wake up to it? What kind of karmic good fortune did he have, and who did he have to kill to get more of it?

There was a pause, and then, “I suppose I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh,” Harry says, faint. His brain isn’t awake enough for this. His _life_ hadn’t prepared him enough for this. “Um.”

As if he could tell exactly that, Tom laughs.

“Shut up, I don’t do well under pressure!”

“Perhaps I should have you read me the daily newspaper, then,” Tom muses. “Or, let’s see, the side of a cereal box?”

Harry’s cheeks burn. “Now you’re just messing with me. I’m never going to ask you to read me a bedtime story ever again, you jerk.”

“I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Tom says. And then, a half-step stutter. “Was that... a little too bold?”

With about as much brain power Harry can muster after thoroughly being turned to an embarrassed mush, he considers it.

“...No,” he says, ducking his head. “You’re fine. But, a cereal box? I’m not sure I know how to pronounce half those words.”

“Yes, and that’s what makes it funny,” Tom says without missing a beat. “Alternatively, you could also tell me what your plans are for the day and spare yourself some embarrassment.”

Harry doesn’t even know if he has embarrassment left to spare. Still, it makes him sit up and play along. “How generous of you, my lord. Well, I guess I’ll have to bore you with the details, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’s expecting a quip back, but when Tom doesn’t say anything for a good ten seconds, Harry pulls away and frowns.

Still on call. “Tom?”

“...I’m here, yes.”

“You sound kind of weird. Are you okay?”

There’s a cough, and then a clearing of the throat before he says, “Yes, just fine. My drink...went down wrong. Anyway, your day. As you were saying?”

Harry does the mental equivalent of a shrug and continues. “Well, I’m probably going to run out and grab some breakfast before heading to the library…”

* * *

Eventually, they _do_ get around to sharing actual, not-sneak-peek-almost-barely-in-the-shot selfies.

Harry is extremely conflicted.

“It’s just,” he tells his two best friends distressingly, “well, he’s!! He’s just really hot, okay!”

Hermione looks mildly concerned for his mental health. “I don’t see the problem?” 

Harry gnaws on his bottom lip until there are noticeable teeth marks there. “It’s not a _problem_ , per se,” he stresses, “it’s just, I’m kind of going through an identity crisis right now?”

“What, why?”

“Well, his voice!” Harry waves as if it were obvious. “I always thought I was an audiophile, you know? And then!!”

He makes another wide gesture, presenting thin air.

“I wasn’t supposed to find his face _attractive_ ,” Harry moans.

“...Mate.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have no one else to blame for this but myself


End file.
